The American Cousin
by TheWarlock'sBowtie
Summary: When Harry's American cousin is accepted into Hogwarts, she befriends a certain pair of Weasley gingers. But when her past comes back to haunt her, what will happen to Harry, the twins, and even the return of You-Know-Who. Set during Goblet of Fire. DISCONTINUED
1. Prologue

Prologue

Bree woke to a quiet house. This wasn't unusual; it was 2 AM after all. Yet she still felt uneasy, a quiet sense of foreboding that she knew to always trust.

She slipped out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold wood floor.

She grabbed her wand, whispering "_Lumos_" and her wand emitted a faint white light.

She pushed her door open and tiptoed down the hallway, slowly pushing her sister's door open. The bed was empty, no sign of her sister, Melody.

Her heart began to pound and she hesitantly creaked open the door to her father's room. His bed was also empty, the covers strewn across the floor.

Bree raced down the hall and nearly fell down the stairs. She burst into the living room and there they were: her father and sister, lying on the floor. She froze, fear rooting her to the spot before she dropped down in between them, grabbing both of their wrists. There was no pulse.

She sat there numbly, rocking back and forth with her sister on her lap.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hesitantly, Breinne Thompson knocked on her aunt and uncle's door. The taxi driver was standing behind her. Together, the two of them held all her possessions; her whole life in just three suitcases and one backpack.

_Then again, _she thought_, I did have to get an entirely new wardrobe for the new climate, so it's not even that._

Her uncle opened the door.

"Hello Uncle Vernon." she said, already steeling herself for the hell that would be living with the Dursleys.

"Breinne," Vernon replied, a scowl deforming his flabby face, "We expected you an hour ago."

"The plane was delayed."

"Well fine then, come in. You'll be moving into the guest room."

He paid the taxi driver (no tip) and dragged her things into the house.

Dudley emerged from the kitchen, scowled at her and retreated back to the kitchen. Petunia gave her a few short instructions and then left.

"Harry!" Vernon called.

Harry's raven head poked out from the living room.

"Hey, cuz." she said, flashing him a relieved smile.

"Hey, Bree." her cousin replied. "Let me help you with your stuff."

An hour later, Harry Potter and Brienne Thompson lay sprawled on the bed of her new room.

"So how long are you going to be staying with us anyway?" Harry asked her, "And where's Melody?"

"They didn't tell you?" Bree didn't look at him, instead fiddling with the comforter underneath her.

"Tell me what?"

"I'm living here now Harry." Bree said, "My father and Melody…they're dead. They were murdered and no one can figure out who did it. Or why I was left alive."

"Oh," Harry replied, "Bree, I'm so sorry. How long ago did it happen?"

"A few weeks ago. I found them in the middle of the night." her voice broke and tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "They were buried without a proper funeral a few days later. I spent the next few weeks with police, therapists, and insurance people. It was torture. The material evidence of our lives, and it was all being thrown into garbage cans, or in storage or slapped with a for-sale sign and the next thing I know I'm settling in a new country and I have no idea what I'm going to do about _anything_."

He reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, sobbing.

After a few minutes, she dried her tears and sat up.

"So how've things been for you?" she asked him.

He studied her for a moment before deciding it was all right to change the topic.

"The Dursleys are…well…the Dursleys. They've started to treat me better, but they still hate me. They sent me off to a boarding school.

"Seriously?" Bree cried. "So I'm going to be without you for the entire year?! You're leaving me with them?"

"Sorry!" Harry cried.

Bree scoffed, shaking her head, "And I thought we were family."

Harry laughed, checking the clock. "You should get to bed; the jet lag must be killing you. You don't look so good either."

"Thanks, you're a real bundle of good news." she deadpanned. She took his advice anyway, shooing Harry out of her room.

The nice thing about her new room at the Dursleys, was that she had her own private bathroom. She looked in the mirror before she got in the shower. Harry was right. She looked terrible.

Her blonde hair, which was normally a glossy-straight inverted bob, hung limp and dull around her face. There were dark circles under her green eyes from lack of sleep.

She leaned on the counter, staring at herself. "You can get through this." she whispered to her reflection. "They're still here with you. This is just a small hitch. You'll be okay soon. They wouldn't want you to mourn them forever."

Satisfied with that reassurance, she took a hot shower and then slept soundly.

Harry served them all a breakfast of eggs the next morning as Petunia and Vernon laid out all of the rules that Bree had to follow. She feigned interest, while in reality she struggled to keep a straight face as Harry made faces from behind Dudley.

Then, there was a knocking, but it wasn't coming from the door. It came from the window.

Sitting on the outside sill was a tawny barn owl, holding a letter with a red seal.

Harry gasped and rushed over, opening the window. The owl flew to his shoulder, dropping the letter into his hand.

"What the bloody hell is that thing doing here?" Vernon asked, already beginning to purple.

Harry looked at the address on the letter. His eyes widened. "It's not for me," he said. The owl was still perched on his shoulder as he crossed the room and handed Bree the letter.

"For me?" she asked and looked down.

It had her name and the Dursleys' address, and it was from: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She smiled. She had been invited to Hogwarts! The she remembered the vow she took and looked up at Harry.

"You're a witch?" Harry asked her in a whisper.


	3. Chapter 2

**So week or two ago, I posted a vote for what path this story should take (which I have now removed). I got only three votes (two from reviewers and one from my beta so thank you guys). I had hoped for more feedback, but I've made my decision. I'm taking path 2. yay! Enjoy!**

Chapter 2

A few days later, Sunday, was the day Harry's friends the Weasleys were due to pick him up for the Quidditch World Cup.

Bree watched as he packed his trunk in the morning.

"Once they get here and we explain about you, I'm sure they'll let you come!" Harry said. Hedwig hooted in agreement from the corner. "The Weasleys are wonderful people. They'd never let you stay here. Besides, we need to bring you to get your school supplies."

Bree just nodded. A part of her didn't expect to be welcome. She was new to the country and hadn't even been a part of this aspect of his life up until now. But she knew that any friends of Harry had to be good people. They would be kind, like him. She smiled, knowing her cousin had finally found a place to fit in.

The Weasleys were late. Harry and Bree were sitting on the stairs waiting; the Dursleys were complaining.

All of a sudden, there was a loud banging coming from the living room and shrieking from Petunia.

They jumped up and rushed in.

There was something banging on the other side of the boarded up fireplace.

"What is it?" Petunia gasped, "What is it Vernon?"

There were voices coming from the other side.

"Ouch! Fred, no – go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake – tell George not to – OUCH! George, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron – "

Bree leaned against the wall, watching the whole spectacle and fighting back laughter while Harry attempted to explain to the Dursleys.

A few muffled thumps and sarcastic remarks from behind the fireplace later, someone decided it was a good idea to blow a hole in the boarding.

Aunt Petunia was knocked backwards, Vernon just barely catching her in time. Dust and debris covered both of them.

Four people were expelled from the fireplace: a tall, older man, two identical twins, and a younger boy. They all had a bright shock of fiery red hair.

"Ah, you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!" the older man, who Bree had to assume was Mr. Weasley, exclaimed, heading over and extending a hand.

Vernon just glared and looked at the hole as three more emerged.

Mr. Weasley proceeded to apologize and explain, even though the Dursleys probably didn't understand a word of what he was saying.

"Hello, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, brightly, "Got your trunk ready?"

"It's upstairs," Harry said.

"We'll get it," one of the twins said. No one had noticed Bree yet.  
"Wait, first, - " Harry paused.

"Well what is it, Harry?" Mr. Weasley prompted.

Harry motioned Bree over. She pushed herself off the wall and strolled up beside him.

"This is my cousin," Harry said, "She just moved here and I found out she is a witch. I don't want to make her stay here. Do you think it would be alright if she came with us?"

"Absolutely!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. He extended a hand to her, "Arthur Weasley, dear. It's a pleasure to meet another relative of Harry's."

She smiled at him, already liking the man. "I'm Bree."

"An American." one of the twins observed.

"How observant of you." she said dryly, "What gave it away?"

"We're going to be great friends." he replied, reaching out a hand, "I'm Fred. And the ugly one's George."

George protested even as he shook hands with Bree. She stared at them intently, eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing then?" the one called Fred asked.

"Making sure I know how to tell you apart."

"Don't be silly." George said, "Even our mum can barely tell us apart."

Bree smiled when she stopped concentrating. "I'll be able to." she assured them.

The younger one introduced himself as Ron.

Bree looked at him seriously. "Thank you for looking after Harry." she said.

Ron just nodded and the twins went upstairs to get Harry's trunk.

Bree followed and grabbed her stuff. She had barely unpacked, so it was a simple matter that morning to zip everything back up.

The green flame disappeared and suddenly Bree was in a different fireplace.

She stepped out, looking around.

Fred reached over and grabbed her suitcase from her, giving it a funny look.

"No trunks in America. Just boring suitcases." she said by way of explanation.

He and George carried her and Harry's stuff upstairs, the stairs creaking.

Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley were back in a few more moments.

An older, red-haired woman bustled into the room, followed by yet another redhead and then a brunette.

"And who is this then, Arthur?" the women addressed Mr. Weasley.

Harry responded, "This is my cousin, Bree. I just found out she was a witch when she moved here and got accepted to Hogwarts. I didn't want to make her stay at the Dursleys. Mr. Weasley said it was fine."

"I'm so sorry about this." Bree blurted in a rush, "I don't mean to be any kind of imposition. I know you guys already had plans. I won't interfere at all I promise. I'm so sorry about this, ma'am."

"Of course, dear, that's fine." she moved forward to Bree.

The twins reappeared at the base of the stairs as Mrs. Weasley introduced herself and embraced Bree in greeting.

The younger girl stepped forward. "I'm Ginny."

The bushy-haired brunette introduced herself as Hermione Granger, a name that Bree recognized as Harry's other great friend.

Later that night, they all sat around a very large table to eat dinner. Bree sat next to her cousin, across from the twins.

"Tell us, Bree." Mr. Weasley said, "Where are you from?"

"Palm Beach." she replied.

The entire family looked at her blankly.

"It's in South Florida," she explained. "Kind of sort of near Miami."

"Did you like it?" Fred asked.

She shrugged. "It was hot and humid all the time. Urban and polluted. But it was home, I suppose. I already like England better though. So much beauty and the weather is wonderful."

"Just wait." George warned, "You won't be saying that come winter time."

"I bet I will." she retaliated.

"So what is Bree short for?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Brienne. Brienne Thompson."

"How are you related to Harry anyway?" Hermione asked. "Tell us about yourself."

"It's not a happy story." she warned.

She sighed when she was urged to continue. "Maternal side for both of us. My mother, Tara, was Lily and Petunia's younger sister. She was a muggle, but unlike Petunia, she completely accepted Lily. After Lily graduated from Hogwarts, my mother and Lily went on a trip to America together. At a wizard bar or somewhere, my mother met my father. I was born two years before Harry, then my sister. When Harry was born, my mother came back to England to visit Lily and James. She died a few months before them. Death Eaters. I don't even remember her."

Bree paused to compose herself. Under the table, Harry grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

"My sister and I grew up with my father, who worked at the American ministry. The American School of the Magical Arts, like most American institutions, is corrupt and expensive. My father couldn't afford to send my sister and I there but he didn't want us to miss out on the school experience. So we went to muggle school and he taught us magic at home. About a month ago I woke up in the middle of the night. When I went downstairs I found my father and my sister dead on the floor. That's why I moved in with Harry and the Dursleys."

There was silence at the table.

Harry was still holding her hand.

Mrs. Weasley broke the silence. "Well dear, you've been through a lot. And just like Harry, we can be your new family. You are always welcome here."


	4. Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Sorry this chapter took me such a long time. But I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter****3**

Bree slept in a room with Hermione and Ginny. They talked into the early hours of the morning, giggling and sharing stories.

When they finally decided to sleep, Bree slipped off into unconsciousness smiling, for she had found a place where she completely belonged.

The next morning, Ginny woke her early. After Bree dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror. Already there was a shine to her green eyes that hadn't been there for a few weeks. They sparkled with excitement.

Mrs. Weasley prepared breakfast for them. The boys stumbled down a few minutes later, bleary eyed from the early hour.

Soon, they were on their way. Where, Bree didn't know. She walked between the twins: Fred on her right and George on her left. She laughed uncontrollably as they told her about the various pranks they've pulled in school.

Eventually, they stopped when an older man called to Mr. Weasley.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," Mr. Weasley introduced. Then, a young man dropped from a tree. Bree looked him over appreciatively. Chestnut brown hair swept across his face and his grey eyes looked out from a pale face. His father, Amos, introduced the boy as Cedric. Cedric Diggory.

Mr. Weasley introduced the father and son to the group.

Cedric approached Bree.

"I don't know you, do I?" he asked her, extending a hand. She shook it.

"No, I'm new. Just moved from America."

"Good. I would never forget a face like yours," he smiled and winked.

Bree felt a blush rising on her cheeks, but she was saved from having to respond when Mr. Diggory called Cedric over.

George raised an eyebrow at her and she huffed, giving him a shove.

"So where are we going anyways?" Bree asked, wanting to change the topic, "This is like the walk to Mordor or something."

The twins looked at her blankly.

"It's a reference. Lord of the Rings. J.R.R. Tolkien. He was British! How do you not know him?"

They made no response. She sighed.

"But seriously, where are we going?"

"No idea," George responded.

When they arrived at the top of the knoll, Bree couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. All that was there was an old boot.

She heard Harry posing a similar question about the nature of the boot.

"That's not just any old boot, mate," one of the twins answered.

"It's a portkey!" the other finished.

"What's a portkey?!" Harry cried. No one answered him.

They grabbed on. She felt a tingly feeling, some bright light, and then suddenly it was as if they were spinning in the air.

Bree's short blonde hair whipped across her face and she grinned in delight.

She looked over next to her and saw Fred and George grinning back.

"Let go!" Mr. Weasley shouted.

Harry and the younger ones hesitated, confused and terrified and even Fred and George seemed a bit hesitant, but Bree released her fingers from the boot, laughing gleefully.

She looked around and below her. They were all falling through some kind of vortex and the green ground was rushing up fast. It was rushing up to them fast. She spread her arms and legs wide and she immediately slowed down.

She glanced Cedric and the two fathers. They seemed to know what they were doing: after they let go from the portkey, they moved their legs as if they were running on air.

Just then, everyone else tumbled by her and she saw them all crash to the ground.

She winced and hoped no one was hurt. Cedric "jogged" over next her.

"Hi," he said.

She craned her neck.

"Awkward time for a pleasant chat, don't you think?" she called up to him. She was starting to loose energy in her arms from keeping them rigid. "So we'll continue it on the ground if you show me how to do what you're doing."

He laughed and agreed. "Do you think you know how to right yourself in the air?" he asked her.

"I can figure it out," she replied, starting to get worried about the ground rushing up at her.

"Once you do that, imagine yourself on a surface and just move your legs as if you were, well, walking. It should come naturally, especially to someone who seems to have your adventurous sense."

Her only response was to grunt in preparation for what she was about to do. Cedric moved away from her.

Suddenly, with as much force as she could muster, Bree wrenched her body upwards. She was now upright in the air. She spread her arms and legs, but the wind whipped at her, seeming to want to tug her sideways again.

She remembered what Cedric had said and pictured a pathway sloping down to the ground beneath her. She tested moving her legs and laughed when she moved forward on her little "path".

She looked down and Cedric was just landing with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory. Cedric leaned down and helped Harry up. Bree smiled.

She heard one of the twins ask where she was. Her smile turned into a wicked grin as she decided to make a grand entrance.

She tested out her plan first, before she came into their visual range.

All of a sudden, right when everyone down below was starting to get worried. Bree did a cartwheel right out of the vortex.

"Yahoo!" she cried, before back-flipping through the air, landing right next to Fred.

He gave her a look she couldn't decipher before he broke out into a grin. "That settles that then. You are going to fit right in with us."


	5. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! It's been another really long wait and I'm sorry! This chapter goes a little bit more into the overall plot of the story, so enjoy it!**

**Also, sorry about the weird spacing, I have no idea what's up with that. **

**R&amp;R please, lovely readers!**

**Chapter 4**

The stairs they climbed went up and up, seemingly never ending. They were on their way to their seats to watch the World Cup.  
"Blimey Dad, how far up are we?" Ron complained.  
Before Mr. Wesley could answer, a suave, male voice answered from a level below them.  
"Let's just put it this way," he said, "If it rains, you'll be the first to know."  
Bree looked down at the man who had spoken. He was tall and pale, with white-blond hair, falling down his back. He was dressed all in black, holding a cane with a snake at the head. A young man (presumably his son) stood at his side. His pale hair was cut short around his face. The father and son wore identical sneers.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box," the boy commented, arrogant, "By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself!"

"Don't boast, Draco," the father chastised, "There's no need with _these_ people."  
The Weasleys turned to go, ignoring the snide comment.  
Just then, the father thrust is cane up to their level, pinning Harry's foot down. They all turned to look down at the man.  
"Do enjoy yourself, wont you?" He said, "While you can."  
Swiftly and gracefully, Bree grabbed the railing with one hand and crouched, swinging herself slightly forward so she was leaning out next to the man, her face only a few inches above and away from his.  
Her other hand snatched his cane off Harry's foot, thrusting it back at him.  
"If a comment like that about my cousin ever passes your lips in my presence again," she growled, "you will soon find that you have no lips."  
He looked at her for a moment, pure contempt in his eyes. He pulled his cane from her grasp, turned on his heel, and walked away. His son gave them a look that attempted to match the scorn of his father, then turned and followed.  
Bree watched them go until they rounded s corner and she could see them no longer. Then, she swung herself back up and turned to face the rest of her company. They were all staring at her in shock.  
Then Fred let out a whoop. "That was brilliant," he laughed, gleeful.  
Bree smiled slightly and inclined her head in acknowledgement.  
Their group continued upwards to their seats. Bree hung back with Harry.  
"I don't need you to protect me, you know," he said, not meeting her eyes.  
"I know. But that doesn't mean I can't help you out sometimes. The more you let people treat you that way, the more they will."  
Harry sighed. "I know." He looked up and their matching eyes met, "Thanks, Bree."  
She nudged him with her elbow slightly. "Anytime, cuz."

Their seats turned out to have an excellent view of the game. Bree stood between Fred and George. They explained the game to her, as she had never seen or played Quidditch before. Their group was split between cheering for the Irish or the Bulgarians.

Less interested in the actual game, Bree enjoyed being part of their family. She felt at home. The stadium seemed to be charged with an energy that lightened her spirits and made her want to cheer with the rest of them.

She glanced over at Fred, whose face was split ear to ear with a beautiful smile. It made her heart melt. She shook that feeling off quickly, dismissing it and turning her attention back to the game.

The group was back in their tent after their game. The twins were making fun of Ron, who was praising Viktor Krum like a god.

Bree sat on her bunk, watching them all with a grin on her face.

There was a commotion outside, with loud shouts. Bree could smell smoke through the wall of their tent.

"Looks like the Irish have their pride on," one of the twins commented.

Arthur Weasley was not so quick to dismiss the commotion. He ducked his head outside the tent. Quickly, he pulled back in, a look of terror on his face.

"We have to get out of here," he shouted at them. The tent was silent for a moment before everyone exploded with questions.

Mr. Weasley would have none of it. He gave them instructions and then ushered them out of the tent.

As soon as they emerged, Bree's blood ran cold. Everywhere there were tents on fire; the flames were mesmerizing, stretching to the sky. Figures, like ghosts, cloaked all in black, were marching through the camp, torches in their hand.

People ran in all directions, screaming in terror. George had hold of Ginny and was already getting her out and away to safety. Bree briefly noted that Hermione and Ron had disappeared and Harry lay on the ground, seemingly unconscious. She didn't notice Fred's hand on her elbow, pulling her away from the fires.

There was a tent that had collapsed, now nothing but kindling for the flames. Bree's eyes were riveted on a figure on the other side of the flames.

The girl was young, probably not even ten. She was wearing a white nightgown, which fell past her knees. Her face was gaunt and deathly pale. And she was staring directly at Bree with stunning blue eyes that seem to bore into her very soul. She didn't seem to be moving, despite the fact that fire raged and people stormed all around her.

But that wasn't the weirdest thing. Nor was the strangest thing the fact that the girl was somewhat transparent. No, the weirdest thing – the thing that sent shivers down Bree's spine – was that the girl wore Melody's face. And this girl stood there, looking exactly like the sister that she had lost so recently.

The girl who looked so much like Melody turned and bean walking away. Away from the crowd and the chaos, into the dark woods. Bree barely thought before following. Fred's grip tightened on her arm and tried to pull her back. Bree yanked her arm away without a glance in his direction.

He hurried after her. "Where are you going?!" he shouted.

"I have to follow her," Bree responded. She sounded dead.

"Who?" he asked. Because Fred saw no one. Bree was chasing after thin air, her face pale as if she had seen a ghost. But he followed her anyway.

They hurried around fires and tents and climbed over fallen trees until they wound up in a clearing in the woods.

Fred looked around. Twigs crunched under his feet and trees rose up high around him. Moonlight and fog filtered down through the branches, scattering light on them.

Bree stood there in the center of the meadow. She was dressed in only a light T-shirt and jeans, so goose bumps stood up on her arms when a cool breeze blew through the wood.

Bree stared at the figure of her sister in front of her. Her sky blue eyes, which were always so bright during life, were now dead and dull.

"You let me die," Melody's voice seemed to hiss into Bree's ears. Bree flinched and Melody continued. "My big sister and you let me die."

Tears sprang to Bree's eyes.

"I didn't!" she cried, "How could I have stopped it?"

"You know how," Melody rasped, "You could have helped but you _didn't_!"

A pounding started in Bree's head, but Bree barely noticed.

"How could you say that?" Bree sobbed brokenly, "You're my sister! I could never let you die!"

"But you did," Melody hissed, "You let me die!"

Melody raised her hand and placed a single finger against Bree's forehead and the pain in her head exploded suddenly.

She screamed and fell. And as the world went dark, she saw her sister's face above her and it seemed to soften, as if it were becoming the girl Bree once knew.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Fred jumped into action as Bree hit the ground. He rushed to her and dropped to his knees beside her. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing and he breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes lingered a moment to long on that portion of her body before he tore his eyes away and focused his attention back on the task at hand.

He shook her twice before her beautiful green eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Fred racked his brain trying to remember something Hermione had said once about unfocused eyes.

A concussion, that was it. She could have a concussion. He didn't know what that meant but he remembered what to do.

"Bree, can you hear me?"

She nodded.

"Speak to me," he pleaded.

"Hi, Fred," she said, her voice sounding far away and somewhat off, like she was drunk on firewhiskey, "Your hair looks like fire in the moonlight."

He fought valiantly to ignore her compliment of him but it still made him blush. But something was definitely wrong with Bree.

_"__In case of a concussion, ask questions that the person should know the answer to like the back of their hand. If they can't answer, then they may be concussed," _Fred remembered Hermione saying. He never doubted Hermione's knowledge before.

"Bree, what is your full name?" he asked.

"Brienne Scarlett Thompson."

"When were you born?"

"May 22, 1978."

Fred scrambled for another question. "What are the characteristics of your wand?"

"Red oak, kitsune tail core, 13 inches, rigid," she answered, without hesitation.

Fred started. The way a wizard's wand is made tells a lot about the person that the wand chooses. Fred's wand, for example, was made of 11 inches of dogwood, a wood for the quirky and mischievous, with a core of dragon heartstring, for the ambitious and flamboyant. His twin's wand was also made of dragon heartstring and spruce, the perfect wand for the bold and humorous.

As for Bree's wand, red oak fit witches and wizards who are quick of wit and adaptation and who have a penchant for duels, qualities that Fred could already associate with the girl on the ground before him.

But the tail of a kitsune? Fred had no idea what a kitsune was, let alone what it signified.

But there wasn't time to think about that. He needed to find his family.

He scooped Bree up in his arms, ignoring her dazed murmurs of protest.

Bree lay in her bed in the Burrow, staring at the patterns in the ceiling. She had woken up here a few hours earlier, with a raging headache and a worried Molly Weasley fussing around her bed. Harry was there, too, leaning against a dresser, talking with Fred and glancing nervously at her.

Harry explained to her what had happened with the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark but that she hadn't been with him. She had been with Fred.

"How much do you remember of what happened to us?" Fred asked.

"Remember? Um, we left the tent in a hurry. We got separated from the others. And then I was dreaming before I woke up here. What happened?"

Fred's eyes shifted nervously and he scratched his nose. "Someone running by knocked you over and you hit your head pretty hard. I carried you to the others." He was lying, Bree could tell. What was he hiding? What had actually happened? "What were you dreaming about?"

Bree thought, trying to call up the murky dream. "I was in the woods. My sister was there. We were talking. I don't really remember what else happened. It was a weird dream, I think."

Fred nodded and again scratched his nose.

_Well now I know his tell_. Unless one was an exception liar, they had a tell: something they did when they were lying, a nervous tick of sorts. Fred's, Bree now knew, was scratching his nose.

But what was he lying about? Bree didn't have the energy to think. Her head hurt too much to do anything else but lie there.

So that's what she was doing. She had lied, too, when she told Fred what her dream was about. But unlike him, she didn't have a tell, so he wouldn't know.

She remembered her dream perfectly, down to every single word her sister had said to her. It pulled at every fiber of her being.

But the fact was that she wasn't completely sure if what had happened was a dream at all. The pain was too much like reality.


End file.
